


Communal Act

by paraboobizarre



Category: The Following
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 09:05:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1422487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paraboobizarre/pseuds/paraboobizarre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time he kissed Paul it was for a number of reasons, but not because he has any deeper feelings for the guy. They were both drunk and hadn't been with anyone in a few months. He was horny and Paul was just there. Simple as that...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Communal Act

**Author's Note:**

> Some Jacob&Paul...in case anyone even remembers the ship that tore all our hearts out ;)

The first time he kissed Paul it was for a number of reasons, but not because he has any deeper feelings for the guy. They were both drunk and hadn't been with anyone in a few months. He was horny and Paul was just there. Simple as that.

It's become a thing. He doesn't like labeling what they do and it doesn't happen all that frequently to deserve its own category. It's just something they do. It's just that some evenings he looks at Paul from across the table and when their eyes meet something passes between them. They wash and put away the dishes, clean up the kitchen, chatting about inconsequential stuff all the while. Their hands brush and there's nothing. No sparks, no butterflies, no nothing.  
They watch TV, sitting at a comfortable distance, and Paul laughs about his jokes, drops his popcorn, gets it all over the couch and in between the cushions. They have some beers, then some more. 

The beers help. It's easier to roll over to the other side of the bed and slide his hand under Paul's T-shirt if there's a pleasant buzz in his head to drown out everything else. With the world slowed down by alcohol, Paul unbuttoning his pants doesn't seem so wrong and kissing becomes less awkward.

It helps keeping up appearances with Sarah as well. She winks at him one morning when they meet up by the mail boxes. Guess you two had a good time last night, she says, as she sorts through her mail, her cheeks coloring just a little as she studies a leaflet advertising lawn furniture with faux scrutiny. 

They did have a good time. It probably was a lot more one-sided than Sarah thinks but why tell her.  
Paul gives amazing head. It's unlike anything any girl ever did to him. It's the toe-curling, bury his fingers in Paul's hair and swear like a sailor kind of amazing. Paul even swallows, which is kind of great in a kinky way but Jacob usually pulls him away just before the great finale. With Paul's hand just teasing him along the rest of the way, they can kiss and that's even better. Not that Jacob would ever admit to that. 

He doesn't really reciprocate. As much as he enjoys getting his cock sucked, he just can't see himself doing it. Objectively, Paul's got a nice dick but a handjob will have to do. Moreover, by the time it's Paul's turn, he's already riled up enough that it doesn't take long any way.

He knows keeping score about what they do in bed is silly, but he can't quite help himself. Paul seems to be eternally getting the shorter end of the stick but he never really complains so they don't change things up for a long time.

Still the tally in the back of Jacob's mind is there and maybe that's why he doesn't say stop that one night when Paul's fingers stray down past his balls to his ass to rub teasingly against his hole. He doesn't say stop when Paul starts fingering him while he blows him. Not that one night or on any of the nights that followed.

The sex itself isn't all that. If anything it's kind of uncomfortable because Paul's dick feels huge and Jacob's legs hurt and become stiff from being bent in all kinds of unnatural ways. He could see why gay guys enjoy it though. Paul's all kinds of considerate in the sack but it's tough keeping it up when it feels like Paul is stabbing away at his innards with a red hot poker.  
That's what it feels like, at least the first time and Jacob would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy milking his pain for all it was worth with Paul in the days following their little premiere. 

It's better next time. Maybe it's because he played his pain up a bit too much after the first time, maybe it's because Paul's gotten over the excitement of the first time, but the second time is better. Not that he says that or acknowledges it in any way.  
This is a practical arrangement, nothing more. They're stuck together and they have to keep up appearances. 

The lines are clear. They get drunk before, they do it, they don't talk about it afterward. Still, sometimes things get blurry. It just feels nice to roll over to Paul's side of the bed during those queer mornings that are not all light and yet not really dark anymore either, with rain trashing against the windows and a cool breeze working its way inside their bedroom. Those familiar smells and the way Paul's chest is so warm against his back. As long as he keeps his eyes closed it's okay to crowd back against Paul and let him kiss his neck, letting his flat palm brush down his stomach and slip into his boxers. It feels nice and it's not like Jacob's doing anything. He lets it be done and that, as far as he's concerned, is a big difference. 

He knows it's really just semantics. When he pushes back against Paul, squirming against that other body behind him and rubbing his ass against that tell-tale bulge...that's more than just letting stuff happen, but Paul never calls him out on it and if there's one thing Jacob has learned in all his time with Joe and the others, it's that lying is a communal act. The lie only works if the person you lie to chooses to believe.  
Paul is biting and sucking at his shoulder, just where it would be hidden underneath a shirt during the day. His arm flexes around Jacob's ribcage pulling him closer, hips rolling against his backside and just above the sibilating sounds of sheets and bodies moving, Jacob thinks he can hear Paul murmuring into his skin. It starts with a breathy _God_ , the whispered _I_ worming its way into his ear on a shuddering exhale and Jacob turns his head around just in time to shut Paul up with a kiss, swallowing the words he doesn't want to hear.

Afterward Paul rolls over, struggles into his crumpled boxers and a sweater and has a smoke outside on the balcony. Jacob curls up on his side, watching Paul's silhouette melt into the grey morning light and the cigarette smoke ribboning up towards the roiling sky.  
He doesn't want to talk about these things because he knows that's a door best kept shut. They're peeking through the keyhole on days like this one, but what's on the other side only ever becomes real when you open the door. 

Outside Paul flicks the cigarette down into the street, immediately lighting another one. Taking a deep drag he lets his head fall back, smoke like from a dragon's mouth curling up into the sky. When he looks back over his shoulder into the bedroom, Jacob quickly closes his eyes, pretending to be asleep already. It's better that way.


End file.
